


Gonna Do It Differently This Time

by jasmineisland



Series: Second Chances [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmineisland/pseuds/jasmineisland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to last year's SPN/J2 Big Bang, Second Chances and New Beginnings, but you don't have to read it first. John is back, and trying to fit in with his adult sons is challenging. Old habits die hard, and John has to learn how to work with them as a team. He starts looking for hunts and comes across one that hits close to home. Should be a cut and dried hunt, but it opens a mine field of memories for Sam, and some hard truths for John and Dean about where Sam has always felt he fit in with his father and brother.<br/>Be sure to check out the art post by  siennavie   and send her some love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

John came back from his run to see Sam throw two duffels in the trunk of the Impala. Finding out angels were real by having one bring him back to help fight Leviathans still had his mind reeling. Not to mention the task of figuring out the new normal in dealing with his sons. Whose relationship had definitely taken a turn he didn’t approve of since he’d died. Turning, the younger Winchester smiled at his father. “We’re taking off for a few days. Promise not to shoot Bobby while we’re gone?”

“You find a hunt?” John wasn’t happy about being left behind. “I know I’ve been out of it for a while, but I do remember how to hunt.”

“Nah. No hunt. We’re headed to a concert. Def Leppard is playing about a half day drive from here. We’re gonna head over today, catch the concert tomorrow night and head back the next day.” Sam reached down to rearrange their belongings but continued to speak. “Of course, I’ll have to listen to Pyromania, Hysteria, and a running commentary on Vivian Campbell versus Steve Brown and if Philip Willis was the right move to replace Steve somebody or other for the next three days….”

“Phillip COLLEN, Sammy.” Dean interrupted Sam’s monologue with a laugh. “Phillip Collen replaced Steve Willis- have I taught you nothing?”

“So, the two of you are taking a vacation?” John was stunned. This wasn’t how he raised his boys.

“Couple days, Dad.” Sam knew exactly where this was going. “I’m sure I can find something for you and Dean to blow up or burn when we get back.”

“And if it’s out there right now and killing, what, sorry? Leave a message? You gonna tell someone’s family that you would have been there sooner but Def Leppard was playing and-“

“That guilt trip doesn’t work anymore, Dad.” Sam gripped the edge of the trunk and took a deep breath. He would eternally be grateful to Cas for bringing back their father, but it was very stressful trying to reform Winchester family dynamics.

“Never did with you, did it? You always wanted to be normal- guess you’re not chasing that one anymore,” He glanced back and forth between the boys to imply how far from normal Sam was now. “So what, hunting’s a 9-to-5 for you now?”

Dean saw every muscle in his brother’s back tense, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. “Dad, we’ve saved every single person out there a few times now. And if anything came out of the apocalypse starts, apocalypse stops, rinse, repeats that have been going on it’s that a lot more people know what’s out there. A lot more hunters. So yeah, we CAN take a break. Anything out there Bobby finds out about he’s got a Rolodex full to choose from.”

“And we’re not turning off our cells, Dad. If something comes up that you really NEED us for? We’re there.” Sam shook his head and went inside to get the rest of what they were taking for the trip.

“Dean, I raised you better than to sit around playing while people are dying.”

Dean took his own deep breath to calm down. “There is nothing out there other hunters can’t handle right now, Dad.”

“I know better than to tell you boys to stay out of trouble, just make damn sure I don’t have to come get ya out of it.” Bobby headed down the stairs with Sam.

“We’ll keep that in mind, Bobby.” Both men stopped when they saw the two oldest Winchesters staring at each other. Instantly, Sam knew John was pushing his ‘people are dying while you’re playing’ mantra that he’d heard from the time he’d started hunting with his family. Determined to not get into an argument, Sam approached his brother and reached for the keys. “Driving.”

Spinning around, Dean moved around the car to the driver’s seat. “Must have hit your head inside the house. Having delusions, bitch.”

Only halfheartedly trying anyway, more to diffuse the situation than anything else, Sam reached for the passenger door handle. “Controlling much, jerk?”

The engine coming to life drowned out the rest of the exchange. As the car pulled out of the yard, John turned to Bobby who had picked up on what was going on as fast as Sam had.

“Don’t, John. That whole hunt-nonstop-till-you-drop shit has almost killed those boys more than once. You save the world, you get a fucking break once in a while around here.”

With a glare, John went back in the house.

Bobby knew a big part of the reason the boys had decided to go to a concert was to get out from under John’s scrutiny for a few days. He hoped the short break would be good for all of them. Sam and Dean usually only stayed in one spot for a few weeks at the most. Then they would be out on the road again. With John entering the picture, they’d been home for almost a month. John was chomping at the bit to get back out for a job, while the boys felt like they were under a microscope with him. He wondered if the three of them could actually hunt together at this point.

 

 

Sam checked the GPS on his phone. “Should make good time. Arena’s not in the best neighborhood, so hopefully we can find a cheap place close by- we’re not gonna be in the best shape for driving after the concert.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t answer.

After a few minutes of silence, the younger Winchester sighed. “I know you’re waiting.”

“For what?”

“For me to bitch and moan about Dad.”

“I’d figured it was coming.” His tone told Sam he really didn’t want to hear it.

“I figured we’d try something new.”

“Like?” Dean was still leery of what was coming.

“Like I know where your loyalty is, and I’m not gonna tear into you to make you prove it anymore.”

“You mean you picked all those fights with Dad just to see what I’d do?”

“No! I mean, I had no problem going nose to nose with him back then. Even less of a problem now. But I think….. since he’s been back……. I just…. realized how many times I put you in the middle to…. I don’t know…. I wanted you to take my side. Half the time it wasn’t even about being right or wrong. It was about you.”

“So you’ve always been a jealous bitch?” Dean actually huffed in surprise. “Shoulda known.”

“That I was jealous over you? Duh.” With a flash of a smile, he shrugged. “Of course I was. I think you’ve figured out I still am.”

“Me and about ten guys that have pissed their pants from the way you fucking looked at them for standing too close to me.” Laughing, Dean smacked his brother with the back of his hand.

“At least I never hit anybody.”

“Hey, he fucking grabbed your ass. Big difference.”

“Dean, for the last time, he didn’t actually grab my ass. He put his number in my pocket.” With a laugh, Sam leaned back and stretched out as much as he could in the confines of the car. When he resumed speaking, his voice was low, indicating how hard the confession was. “Looking back now, I figured out how jealous and insecure I was about you. I really think that was why I put you in the middle so much.”

“And now?” Dean wasn’t sure how he felt about Sam’s admission. He couldn’t deny the whole caveman thing Sam had going on wasn’t hot on occasion. Feeling like his brother wanted to own him and keep him to himself had done a lot for his ego. And libido. On the other hand, there was a part of him that wondered what he had done to make his brother feel so insecure back then.

“Now? I really don’t even want to fight with him anymore. I mean, yeah, he still pisses me off more than anyone else on the freakin’ planet. But I’ve also figured out what I did to you back then.” He shrugged, reaching out to grip Dean’s shoulder with a grin. “I’ve got the prize, baby. Don’t need to fight him for it anymore.”

“That is SO disturbing on a shit ton of levels, Sammy.” But he laughed with his little brother.


	2. Gonna Do It Differently This Time 2

The second Sam dropped his bag on the floor beside the bed, he was tackled from behind. Even as the air left his lungs, his brother was sealing their mouths together hungrily. After a few seconds, the younger man was forced to break the kiss. “Air.”

“Don’t need it.”

Dean’s tongue was right back in his mouth. For a moment, he was convinced he didn’t either. But he realized passing out would kill the mood. Using his upper body, Sam lifted up enough to grab his shirts and pull them over his head. His brother took the hint and decided to assist in the quest to remove his clothes. If assist meant rip everything from his lower body at once. Even as his shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers hit the ground in one tangled lump, Dean was back on him.

When Sam’s hands threatened to rip his shirt at the seams, the older Winchester finally got the hint and stood. He removed his own shirt, but while Sam’s long slender fingers worked his belt buckle, he reached for the remote.

Intent on ridding the fabric that was between him and his brother, Sam froze when he heard the familiar screams of victims on some slasher flick. “Seriously? You’re NOT planning on watching that, right?”

With a grin, Dean threw the remote on the other bed. “You’re gonna scream tonight, little brother. Gonna need some white noise for the neighbors.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.” Sam was going for sarcastic, but the blood rushing south seemed to have tightened his throat to a squeak.

“Nope. Sure of you.” Straddling Sam’s lap, Dean proceeded to lick his way into the younger man’s mouth.

The feel of his cock sliding against his brother’s ass sent ripples through Sam’s body. Rocking forward, he planted his feet and stood up, holding Dean’s thighs so they slid around his waist.

“Fucker!” Dean’s protest was, at best, feeble. As much as he complained about how much bigger Sam was, it slammed through every button he had when his little brother manhandled him like he weighed nothing. And the little shit knew it. Before Sam could turn around and deposit him on the bed, he reached around to the duffle he’d thrown on the other bed. “Let me grab the bag.”

Dean was smaller, but he wasn’t exactly small, and Sam could feel his thighs protesting supporting both of their weight. Not that he’d admit it. It took a few seconds, but Dean finally found the small bag in his duffel where they kept the different lubes and a few toys they occasionally played with. When his brother shot him a filthy smile and held up the entire bag, Sam’s cock actually twitched.

“Gonna be a long night?” Letting his eyes show that he knew it wasn’t a question.

“Haven’t really been able to play at Bobby’s-“”- The older Winchester’s words stopped when he was dumped on the bed, followed by 225lbs of muscle pressing him into the mattress.

So hard and fast was how it was gonna start. Dean would work with that. The last few weeks had a been nothing more than a few hand-over-the-mouth-don’t-make-the-bed-squeak fucks in the room next to their father. And a couple bend-over-the-workbench-but-make-it-quick-before-someone-shows-ups in the workshop. The feel of his brother’s dick lined up with his own made him gasp. It was gonna be over a lot quicker than he wanted if he didn’t change the pace a bit. Using his leg, he pushed and flipped them over so he was on top. Before Sam’s brain could catch up with what he’d done, Dean slid down, biting and licking his way to the soft patch of silky hair between those hipbones. Which looked like a great place to bite, by the way.

“Dean….Jesus….” Shifting under the older man, Sam gripped the sheets with his fists and closed his eyes. His cock was pulsing small drops every time he felt teeth on his skin. Every touch set off little pings through his nervous system, and he fought the urge to reach down and push that mouth over his dick.

So many ideas were running through Dean’s head he was having a hard time deciding which one he was gonna go with. The images in his head almost sent him over the edge, which would make most of them impossible for about fifteen minutes. Sam wouldn’t be happy about that. The thought of explaining that to the other man made him laugh.

“Seriously?” Sam sounding so insulted made him laugh harder. “I’m trying to get laid and you’re listening to the TV? For fucking real?”

The older Winchester dissolved in to a fit of laughter. He was just about to explain what was really going through his head when a size 13.5 foot caught his shoulder and sent him sprawling.

“Fuck you. I’ll do it myself.” He made such a show of pulling out strawberry lube that it only made Dean laugh harder.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay. Okay. Calm down.” Wiping his eyes, Dean sat up. “Not that watching you take care of it yourself isn’t a really good way to spend the night, but I was thinking more active participation. I just damn near made myself come thinking about what I was gonna do to you.” He reached out and snagged the bag. “And I think you just made up my mind.” Gripping Sam’s shoulder, he pushed him face down on the bed. Eager Sammy made pliant Sammy and Dean easily maneuvered him up on his knees. Unable to stop himself, he sunk his teeth into the perfect globe in front of him.

“Jesus!”

Dean followed the bite with a sharp slap. The large body jerked. “The things I want to do to you….. Haven’t been able to do any one of them in for-fucking-ever.”

“So stop fucking talking about them already!”

“Shut up.” “I-“ Whatever the younger man was going to say came out in one long moan when Dean decided that pressing his tongue flat over the tight ring of muscle was first on his list. Pushing the tip of his tongue into his brother, Dean moaned. The vibrations made the body in front of him tremble. Determined to make this go on as long as possible, the older man moved down and traced his tongue over the heavy balls in front of him. When Sam whined, he smiled to himself. Time to up the game a bit.

When he felt his brother’s tongue leave his body, Sam knew something was coming. Dean’s shoulders shoved his thighs apart and he realized the smaller man was on his back between them. Even as he realized what was about to happen, his cock was guided into Dean’s mouth. With his legs spread over those shoulders he had no leverage to thrust, but he didn’t have to. Curling his upper back, Dean pushed the head of the large cock into his throat.

“Fuck! Dean…. Gonna-“

With a soft pop, Dean pulled off and smiled. “Not yet you’re not. I got plans.” For a moment, he wedged his hands between himself and his brother’s body to grip the base of his dick.

The grip got almost too painful for a split second and suddenly Sam knew exactly what the other man had done. He didn’t even have to look to know there was a soft black leather cock ring snug around him. His balls drew up and he could swear his dick was getting bigger just at the thought of it.

Satisfied that his brother wasn’t going to blow his load to soon, Dean sucked that now nearly pulsing cock into his throat one more time. When Sam’s face dropped into the pillow with a long moan, he swallowed a couple times for good measure.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He desperately wanted to come, but he also knew that Dean would make it more than worth the wait. Gripping the sheets hard enough to rip them, he focused on the rhythmic squeezing that throat was giving him.

For a brief moment, Dean was almost afraid his brother was going to collapse on his head. He squirmed out from under the large body and flipped up on his knees. The sight of Sam so strung out all he could do was shake and moan nearly sent him over the edge. Popping the cap on the lube, he coated his fingers. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and lapped at the tight pucker with his tongue. Prodding and pushing, he made room for himself and allowed his teeth to graze the skin as he worked. When Sam’s body jerked, he accidentally bit down a little harder than he meant to, but when he heard his name screamed from the other end of the bed, he grinned. Once his tongue was sliding in with no resistance, he added a finger. The strawberry lube masked the familiar smell of his brother, but Sam’s reaction was worth it. He was pretty sure the younger man was actually crying from the stimulation when his finger found the small bundle of nerves. By the time Dean had three fingers buried in his brother’s body, the larger man was reduced to shaking and moaning. The sheen of sweat covering his muscular back was too tempting, and Dean swiped his tongue across his lower back. Using his free hand, he reached up and palmed the full, twitching balls in front of him. A sharp sound startled him, and he raised his head to find out Sam had actually hit the headboard hard enough to crack the wood.

With a gentle tug to the cockring Dean pulled his other hand free and got up on his knees. Coating his cock with lube, he didn’t spend time on a gentle slide. He was quickly buried in that tight heat and he groaned. It was too much, and he had to reach down between their bodies to grip himself tightly for a second to get control.

“Come on!” Sam’s voice was a cross of mostly whine with what was trying to be a demand.

It was like a switch flipped. Dean gripped his brother’s hips in a bruising grip and pulled back a little before slamming into him. On the next stroke, the larger body pushed back against him so hard he almost fell backwards. It was fast and brutal for a short time. The TV hopefully masking the grunts, whines, and curses from the neighbors, but neither man really cared at that moment.

Sam’s body snapped straight, and Dean knew a split second before the muscles clamped down on him that his brother was done. Every spasm of the body -wracking orgasm squeezed harder on the cock buried in him. Unable to catch his breath, Sam had no choice but to let it happen. The limited blood flow from the ring made every twitch seem like a spasm and Sam felt like his entire body was shaking. Even while his cock was still pumping his arms gave out and he fell to the mattress.

Dean was on a sharp edge, but he held on to his brother’s hips and kept pumping, adding that stimulation to the aftershocks.

His body completely spent, Sam could feel his brother continuing to slam into that spot that made every nerve twitch. At that moment he was nothing more than a warm spot on the bed under Dean. Then Dean groaned just before his body felt like it was seizing. The warmth spread inside his body, but all Sam could do was shudder. A few seconds later Dean was lying beside him, panting.

One look at Sam and Dean knew he’d rocked the kid’s world. He was soaked in sweat, his hair clinging to his head, the sheets under him drenched. Sooner rather than later they’d have to clean up and move to the other bed. But right now all he could do was stare into the dazed hazel eyes.

With a small smile, the younger Winchester forced his body to move enough that he could reach out and touch his brother’s arm. He was usually the post sex cuddler, but he didn’t have the energy at the moment.

Watching Sam’s eyes close, Dean knew he was going to be useless for a while. He grimaced when he forced his body to get up. Retrieving a warm washcloth, he pulled and prodded the younger man until he’d manhandled him into the other bed. As he wiped the dried spunk from his body, Dean realized they’d forgotten the cock ring, still around Sam’s now-flaccid member.

“Never showed this part in any porn I’ve ever watched.” He removed the ring and finished cleaning himself and his brother before lying down next to his next to unconscious lover.

After a day of nothing but delivered meals, marathon sex, and more than enough beer at the concert, it was almost noon before either of the Winchester’s eyes opened. Sam was the first one up, taking a shower to get the remainder of the beer, jizz, and lube off his body. Dry swallowing a few aspirin, he reached for his phone before heading out for coffee. Dean’s phone was lit up with missed messages. With a sense of foreboding, he checked the message. When he saw the message was nothing but coordinates, his first instinct was to throw the phone into the wall.    
  
The only thing that stopped him was that it would wake up his brother, and he wasn’t about to do that. Putting the phone back down, he headed out.    
  
By the time he got back, Dean was stirring. He didn’t look happy about it until he saw the coffee cup in Sam’s hand. Taking a long drink, he sat up. He could tell instantly that Sam was not happy. “What? Three days of sex, beer, and music not enough for you?”    
  
Forcing himself to stay calm, Sam handed over the phone. “Dean, I can’t go back to this.”   
  
For a moment, he stared silently at the message. “Can’t say I’m thrilled, either.” Meeting hazel eyes for a moment, he made a decision. “I need a shower. Grab breakfast, get on the road and then call him?”    
  
Moving across the room, Sam leaned down and kissed him. “I love you so fucking much.” Dean wasn’t going to snap to attention and haul ass because John sent a few numbers.    
  
The older man knew exactly what his brother was thinking, and he decided their father could wait a few more minutes. “I’d say you need a shower, too.”    
  
“I took one this-“    
  
When he caught on, Dean laughed. “And people think you’re the smart one.”    
  
Dropping his pants, he followed Dean into the shower. “Give me a break- haven’t had any blood going to my brain in two days.”    
  
“Not gonna get any for a little while longer, either.” As soon as Sam was in the shower with him, Dean dropped to his knees and sucked him down to the root.    
  
“Son of a bitch.” The taller man’s head hit the shower head and it sounded like the pipes in the wall actually moved from the force of it.   
Replacing his mouth with his hand, Dean looked up at him. “You knock yourself out I’m leaving your wet naked ass right where you fall.”    
  
“Be your fucking fault! You get to explain-oh shit.” His words dissolved into a groan when his brother swallowed him down again.    
  
When those large hands covered his head, Dean let go of his brother’s hips. It didn’t take long for Sam to figure out what he wanted and he gripped the older man’s head to hold it still. After a few gentle thrusts, he felt Dean’s throat relax and he went for it.    
  
Dean loved it when his brother lost control of himself. He never thought he’d ever actually like having his face fucked to the point his throat ached and he lost his voice, but the way Sam fell apart was worth losing his voice for a day. As he felt the thrusts become more frantic, he gulped in a large breath when he could and held it. Sammy was nearly screaming by the time the grip on his head became painful and he knew it was nearly over. All it took was for him to open his eyes and look up to make Sam go over the edge. Swallowing around the pulsing dick in his throat, Dean continued until it was too much and Sam moved away from him. When Dean got off his knees and looked at his brother he almost lost it. The larger man was leaning against the wall, using his hands against the tile to stay on his feet. His face flushed, eyes nothing but pupil, and heaving from trying to catch his breath. The most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.   
  
With an absolutely dopey smile, Sam reached out and pulled Dean into a searing kiss. Licking the taste of himself out of his brother’s mouth, Sam reached down and stroked that hard cock a few times.    
  
Moaning softly, Dean tried to figure out how to get his dick into the tight heat of Sam’s ass. He didn’t have to say anything. Sam reached out to find the lube they’d left in there the night before and handed it to him. Two fingers slid in easily thanks to having spent a lot of time with Dean in there over the last two days. Due to their height difference it was a lot easier when Dean bottomed in the shower, but he knew there was no way in hell Sam was going to get it up again at that moment. He withdrew his fingers and grabbed his brother by the hair. “Out.”    
  
“Wha…?”    
  
“Out. You’re too big and I’m not into breaking my neck.” Not giving Sam a chance to think about it, he directed the younger man to spread his legs and lean over the sink. With one motion, Dean slid in until his hipbones collided with him. Knowing how oversensitive his brother was at the moment, he deliberately hit the spot that would make him cry out and shake.    
  
“Jesus. Fuck. Dean, I can’t…  Goddamn you’re gonna kill me, I - shit!” Dean was pounding into him so hard he couldn’t keep up and his forehead slammed into the mirror.    
  
With a startled laugh, Dean pulled out. “Get your dumb ass down there where you can’t break anything.”    
  
Still wondering what the fuck had happened, Sam just went with it and dropped to his knees. Within seconds that big cock was slamming into his prostrate and he felt his dick trying to fill again. Trying. The rest of his body was throwing up the white flag and trying to fall over.    
  
In a safer position, Dean let go. Pounding into his brother, he rode out the shudders and basically used the large body under him to chase his own release. With a loud groan, he felt his entire body shake with the force of his orgasm before he fell forward. Sam was still trying to recover and his arms couldn’t hold them both. Even as they crashed to the floor, the younger man was trying to get out from under his brother.    
  
“Get off me, you fucker.”    
  
“Just fucked you senseless, didn’t  I ?” With a smug grin, Dean took a breath and pulled out so he could stand up. His legs wobbled a bit, but he wasn’t going to let Sam see it. Stepping back into the shower, the spray hit the man still on the floor. By the time he finished Sam was pushing him out of the way.    
  
“Move. Not gonna spend the day riding in the car with your jizz dripping out my ass.”    
  
Laughing, Dean smacked his arm. “TMI, dude. Way too much.”    
  
“Truth. Dude. S’what you get when you fuck your brother.”    
  
“But it’s so hot.”    
  
They shared a grin that said ‘yes, they both got off on the fact they were brothers but would never admit it’. 

 

It was almost an hour later they were headed toward the coordinates John had sent. Putting his phone on speaker, Sam waited for John to answer.    
  
“Where in the hell are you?”    
  
“About three hours out,” Sam answered, just waiting for it.    
  
“I sent you coordinates hours ago. You should be here.”    
  
“We’re on our way, Dad. What do you have?”    
  
“Just get your asses here.”    
  
The line went dead.    
  
“Yeah. We’re in for a good time.” Sam sighed.    
  
“Not gonna let it spoil the mood, Sammy.” Reaching out he gripped the long hair across the seat. “How ‘bout a little road head?”    
  
“If you don’t manage to wreck the car, I’m sure showing up with jizz on our clothes would go over REAL well.”    
  
“So swallow.” With a grin, he yanked his brother’s head down.    
  
Still bitching, but not really fighting, Sam found his face buried in Dean’s crotch. He knew his brother wanted to take advantage of every second they could before they had to go home. Home. It felt right, but still sounded strange in his head to think of even Bobby’s house that way. Distracted, he mouthed a bit at bulge in his brother’s jeans, but the car was swaying just enough and Dean’s fingers were stroking through his hair and he couldn’t help himself.    
  
When he felt the weight of Sam’s head drop onto his thigh, Dean shook him. “Sammy?”    
  
Kid was out cold. “Well fuck.” With a smile, he turned the radio down a little and continued to run his fingers through the long hair. “Lightweight.”


	3. Gonna Do It Differently This Time 3

Just under three hours later, the Impala pulled in next to the truck John had borrowed from Bobby. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Sam stretched his long frame out straight. When he turned, he found Dean just staring at him over the top of the car. Their eyes met and they shared a smile before the door to the room opened.    
  
“Sorry to break up your vacation to actually do your jobs.” John’s voice was sarcastic and he waited for his boys to get inside. He was still floundering when it came to them, and he was hoping, without Bobby running interference, they could learn to hunt as a team again.    
  
The brothers walked into the room and were pleasantly surprised to see two large pizzas on the table. Grabbing slices they sat and waited for John to give them the rundown on the hunt. Both of them eyed the familiar sight of pictures and notes stuck to the wall they’d grown up with.    
  
“This house,” John pointed to a photo on the wall, “was abandoned about five years ago. Bank took it three years ago. Been on the market ever since. But anyone that goes down into the basement comes out reporting strange smells or sounds.”    
  
“Vengeful spirit?” Dean ventured, but his voice was still hoarse from the shower that morning.    
  
“You getting sick?”    
  
A blush crept up his neck, but he shook his head. “Just need a drink.” He caught the beer that was suddenly flying towards him from where Sam was at the cooler. He’d gone to the cooler more to get away from John seeing the look on his face he knew was there.    
  
“Yeah. Hasn’t really hurt anyone yet, but a contractor hired to find out what was going on fell down the stairs. Neighbors say they hear things at night.”    
  
“Sounds like the property wasn’t abandoned. What’s the deal with the owner?”    
  
“There’s the catch, Sam. Owner was a hunter.”    
  
Both younger men sat up a little straighter. Dragging their heels to take care of a fallen hunter didn’t sit right with either of them and they shared a look.    
  
A bit appeased at the effect his words had on them, John continued. “I was checking out hunters I knew…. before. Who’s still in the game and who didn’t make it. So when I got to this one, that’s when I found the hunt.”    
  
“Who is it?” Sam had a bad feeling. Brown eyes met his and he knew his father was judging him by the reaction he was going to have to the name.    
  
“Ken Starklyn.”    
  
Unable to control himself, Sam stood and walked back to the cooler for another beer. He didn’t want his father to see the reaction he couldn’t stop.    
  
Dean knew his father had dropped the name the way he did to see what his brother would do. It was a cheap shot, but unless Sam looked like he was going to lose it, he’d let it go. More to get John’s attention than anything else, he stood. “So any idea what his last hunt was?”    
  
“That’s the thing. He hadn’t hunted in a few years when he disappeared. Busted up his knee pretty good from what I can find in medical records in the town. Was waiting for you to canvas the neighbors.”    
  
Sam’s mind was racing. Memories trying to break through that he did not want to think about. “Guess searching the house is pointless. Bank’s people would have found his body.” He would do just about anything to not have to go in that house ever again.    
  
“You got a better idea to find out what he was up to when he died?” John’s tone was sharp.    
  
“Seems to me we need to find out what the neighbors know and try to figure out if he was working on something.” Sam knew he’d made a mistake. Shrugging, he headed out the door. “So let’s load up. Told that motherfucker I’d piss on his grave, anyway.”    
  
Dean couldn’t stifle the chuckle Sam’s words forced out of him. “Yeah, Sammy always did hate that son of a bitch with a passion.”    
  
“With everything I’ve heard he’s gone through, you think he’d let some stupid shit from his childhood go.”    
  
That thought sobered Dean. “Yeah, you think he would.” The older brother instincts kicked in when he stopped to consider it. Sam would’ve let go of something that happened 15 (150) years ago. So what the hell happened between Sam and Ken that he was still so angry about? Dean remembered Ken as an okay guy. Decent hunter. He’d done a few jobs with him and John. And John had left Sam with him a few times when he and Dean were hunting nearby.    
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Sam coming back with their bag. It was just the weapons, and he knew exactly what his brother was thinking. There was no way they were sharing a hotel room with Dad anymore. He was okay with that. The fact that they shared a bed every night would make sharing a bed in the room with Dad impossible. He knew his father had stayed quiet but would never accept their relationship. No reason to push him on that front.    
  
“Feds?” Sam looked at Dean.    
  
“Don’t think the neighbors would buy it. Guy was a nobody that’s been missing for five years. I was thinking long lost relative.” John had run this unit for 22 years and giving up control wasn’t in his nature.    
  
Hating to test his brother this early on, Dean nodded. “Nephews. We can hit the neighbors while you go in the house.”    
  
Too grateful that he didn’t have to go in the house to care, Sam nodded. “So let’s go recon.”    
  
Recon wasn’t a word his brother used, so Dean knew it was for their father’s benefit. Standing, he bumped his brother’s shoulder with his own on the way out the door.

They got back to the hotel within a few minutes of each other. Sam went to the lobby to get a room while Dean dropped a bag of takeout on the table in John’s.   
  
“Pile of nothing on our end. Everybody said the same thing. Hardly ever saw him. Rude. Nothing to say to anyone.” He snorted. “You know, typical hunter.”   
  
Nodding, John shrugged. “He wasn’t working a job that I could see. Weapons still hidden in the crawl space in the living room closet. Figure we can go back and get them later. Can’t carry them out in daylight. See if any of them are worth keeping.” He grabbed a burger out of the bag and sat down.   
  
It wasn’t a minute later Sam knocked on the door. When Dean let him in he reached for his sandwich and sat on the bed. “Dean fill you in, Dad?”   
  
“Yeah. Just told Dean I didn’t find anything job related at the house.”   
  
“Looks like we’ve inherited some weapons, though.” Dean grinned. “Gonna go get them later.”   
  
“I wouldn’t get too attached. They could be what his ghost is attached to.” Sam shrugged.   
  
“I found this-“ John handed Dean a picture. “Few pictures of this kid in the bedroom in the nightstand.” He was about fifteen, smiling at the camera. “Far as I know Ken didn’t have kids.”   
  
Suddenly Sam lost his appetite. A fifteen-year-old boy. “Let me see it. If Ken disappeared five years ago, this kid is around twenty now? Might be able to match him if I cross reference the DMV with local addresses.” The thought of what had happened made him nauseous. Standing, he moved to the door. “We’re in 109, I’ll take our stuff in and get started on this.”   
  
Dean had expected their father to balk at what he’d always considered a waste of money, but he only nodded. Guess Dad wasn’t any more excited about sharing a room then they were. “So we wait to see what Sammy comes up with?”   
  
“That and nightfall to go get the weapons out of the house before someone does buy the house and finds them.” John finished his burger and leaned back. “You got any idea what it was about Ken that he’s still pissed about it?”   
  
“No. Whatever it was, he never told me. From what he did tell me I thought you knew.”   
  
  
“No idea.”   
  
“Oh well. Guess we’re gonna have to let him piss on the grave before we torch it.”   
  
The older Winchesters shared a laugh.   
  
Sam was staring at the screen, trying hard to deny what he knew happened. The kid in the picture was Brian Andler. Twenty. Several drug arrests leading to two rehab stays and a very short stay in juvi when he was sixteen. Still lived with his parents a few miles away. Something told Sam that this kid had something to do with Ken’s disappearance. He needed to talk to him. And, if Brian did what Sam suspected, shake his hand.   
  
Standing, he took the tablet and headed back to his brother and father.  



	4. Gonna Do It Differently This Time 4

When Sam knocked on the door, a small woman answered. Stepping back, Sam smiled at her and Dean almost snickered at her reaction. Puppy eyes still worked for his kid brother.    
  
Sam gently asked if Brian was home and followed the woman’s directions around the house to the back yard. Dean and John had decided fed was the way to go with the kid.  Since he was still on probation, a badge would most likely get more answers out of him. But they didn’t know what Sam did about Ken and his suspicions. He was still trying to figure out how to do this without Dean getting suspicious. The three of them flashed their badges and the terror in Brian’s eyes told Sam he was right.    
  
“We’ve been told you knew a Ken Starklyn?” John was his usual  no - n onsense self and it only made the kid more nervous.    
  
“No. Never heard of him.” But all three Winchesters knew he was lying.    
  
“Brian, look, we just want to know if you knew what he was doing before he went missing.” Dean tried to soften things, but Brian was having none of it. He was shaking by the time he made it to his feet and started to head for the house. John was going to block his path, but Sam reached his arm across his chest to stop him.    
  
  
“I got this.”    
  
Before John could voice his objection, Dean stepped in front of him. “He’s got a good sense of these things, Dad. Let him try.”    
  
Using his long legs, Sam easily caught up to the spooked kid. “Brian, I’m not a fed.” Stepping in front of him, he didn’t touch him, but looked him in the eye. “My name is Sam. I knew Ken. I was fourteen and I know what he was.”    
  
Brian stared at Sam for long moment with a look he couldn’t decipher. Then his face registered shock. “Sam Winchester?”    
  
Now Sam was shocked. “How……?”    
  
“Ken had your name on the back of……. pictures in his….” His entire demeanor changed and his voice was soft. “Recognize you.”    
  
The blood drained from Sam’s face. “Can you tell me where he is?”    
  
“Why? I mean, you know what-“ He looked away. “You know.”    
  
“Because you have to have heard what’s going on at his house. The noises, the people that have gotten hurt?”    
  
“You think it’s…..what, a ghost?”    
  
“I can take care of it. That’s what we do. I need to know where he is.”    
  
“Seriously? A ghost?” Brian was obviously afraid to tell the truth.    
  
“You know I know what he did. I’m sorry you know as well as I do.” Unable to face him, Sam looked away. “I’m sorry you had to do what I couldn’t do back then.”    
  
They were both silent for a moment. Finally Brian looked at the hunter. “You ever… tell anybody?”    
  
_ I didn’t exactly TELL Lucifer.  _ “He had me convinced my father knew. And that he’d go after my brother if I didn’t-….”    
  
“Fucking head games.” Brian shook his head. He took a deep breath and sighed. “In the shed there’s a hole under the corner of the floor. I think it used to be some kind of outhouse or well or something. He’s in there.”    
  
Nodding, Sam gripped the kids shoulder. “Brian, I’m not one to talk about doing anything righ t . I pretty much am the definition of screwed up. But you don’t have to end up like this. You don’t have to tell anyone what happened that led up to him being in the sh ed , but I’d suggest you talk to someone.”    
  
Sam took a couple steps away, then turned back. “The pictures……”   
  
“I panicked. Just ran. I don’t have any idea where there are, but they’re probably still in the house.”    
  
Nodding, Sam headed back to his brother and father. How to tell them without TELLING them was making him walk slowly.    
  
“Well?” John sounded impatient.    
  
“Let’s go. Got what we need.”    
  
The second the doors on the Impala shut John was leaning up from the backseat. “You telling me that kid KILLED Ken?”   
  
“Doesn’t matter. We torch the corpse, ghost and any proof are gone.”    
  
Dean knew from the way those hazel eyes were moving anywhere but on him or John there was a lot more to the story, but he knew there was no chance of getting it out of Sam with their father there.    
  
“Fifteen year old kid got the drop on a hunter? Was he robbing the old man? I got a problem letting a kid that killed a friend of mine off the hook.”    
  
“Maybe you should have had better friends.” Sam’s sharp tone took both older men by surprise.    
  
“You’ve been pissy since I sent you this job. Just because you had a problem helping out and doing what he told you to do doesn’t mean that a good hunter deserved to die!”    
  
Sam couldn’t control the memories flooding his mind.    
_ You do what he tells you, you hear me, Sam? You suck it up and do whatever the fuck he says. Don’t make me send your brother to pay up. He’s worth more than that, and you know it.  _   
_ He’d thrown himself in the cage over fifty years ago, on his 28th birthday. But now he was 14 again, and the monster of his nightmares was now standing in front of him, demanding that he pay up on his knees. And his father was ordering him to do it.  _   
  
When his brother started grabbing at the door handle, Dean pulled over. “Sammy?” He hadn’t had a flashback since Cas and Gabriel had used his soul to fix Sam’s, but it looked like he was having one at that moment. Panicking, he stopped the car and jumped out as the younger man rolled out on the ground.    
  
By the time John had opened his door, Dean was on the ground with his brother and holding his face with both hands. “Sammy, look at me. Come on, man, don’t do this.”    
  
For a moment all Sam could do was clench the older man’s shirt in his fist and try to catch his breath. When he realized what was going on, the only thought going through his head was that Dean knew. Dean was going to find out everything. Desperate, he tried to pull away, but his brother’s hands moved to clench his shoulders and hold him still.    
  
Dean had no idea what was going on. For a second it had looked like Sam was coming out of it, but then he started trying to get away again. “Sammy, come on. Look at me. Calm down. Just take a breath and look at me.”    
  
The youngest Winchester closed his eyes, but his breathing evened out and he nodded once to let Dean know he was okay.    
  
“Come on little brother. Let’s get you back in the car.” Hauling the larger man up by his jacket, Dean gently led him back to the passenger seat. For a moment he stood there, just making sure Sam wasn’t about to try to bail out again.    
  
“I thought your angel friends took care of this.” John’s voice was uncharacteristically low.    
  
“I thought so, too. But it’s not gonna happen again. Whatever this is – it all started here. We’re done. Bobby can find someone else to come burn some fucking bones.”    
  
“No.” Sam spoke, but his voice was barely audible. “We’re gonna finish this.”    
  
“Then you’re gonna have to tell me what’s going on, Sammy. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”    
  
“Just… … twisted. Over and over.” Shrugging, Sam looked at Dean. “In the cage.”    
  
Dean reached out and brushed a stray hair off his brother’s face. Of course. Whatever had happened here fifteen years ago had been a game to pisse d - of f archangels, making it ten times worse than it ever really was. Dean had a few memories of his own that Allistair had twisted to create terror. “Okay, so you tell me. No argument however you want this to play out. We finish it in a couple of hours or we head out.”    
  
“Finish it.” Sam tried to convince himself if he burned Ken’s bones it would burn those memories in his head as well. Now that it had been drug out of his head it needed to be burned away. “Need to write a new ending.”    
  
The strained smile seemed to calm Dean. He wasn’t convinced his brother was okay, but he understood. Taking a deep breath himself, he let it go and patted the large shoulder in front of him. “Okay. We do it after dark.”    
  
When Dean turned to their father, he saw hesitation in his eyes. “If he says he can do it, he’ll do it, Dad. You only thought he was a stubborn son of a bitch when he was a kid.” He smiled softly. “He was always a lot stronger than either of us gave him credit for.”    
  
Not entirely convinced, John nodded and got back in the car.

It was well after dark when the three Winchesters approached the house. It was on a large plot of land and away from the few nearby houses, so they should have privacy. Dean and Sam automatically took point, moving in sync around the house. John was about to voice his objection and take point himself, but he took a moment to watch the way they moved together, completely aware of where the other was without a glance in their direction. A lump formed in his throat for a moment. It hit him that his boys had grown into two exceptional hunters. He’d heard the stories from Bobby and that angel, Cas, but for the first time since he’d been back he was actually seeing it. They were silent, nearly mirroring each other’s movement, each one covering their side and trusting their brother to cover their back.    
  
It was everything he’d both hoped and feared when he’d first set out to train them. The hope that they would be good enough to survive and the fear that this would become their lives like it had his. And, from what he’d seen of them since returning, they were actually happy together. Together. The thought of what they did to each other in the dark still didn’t sit well with him. Never would. But seeing them here, completely in tune with each other, he realized that maybe what they did in the dark gave them that complete awareness of each other.    
  
He was so lost in his thoughts that when they stopped walking he nearly walked into both of them. In unison they turned with questioning expressions, but he shook his head. Dean deferred to Sam at the door for the location.    
  
Eyeing the small shed Sam saw some wood lying flat in the corner. Over the years, the weather had taken its toll, and part of the shed had collapsed on it. With a small nod of his head, the two younger hunters went to work. As they pulled debris from the pile, John stood watch with a flashlight and a shotgun. It didn’t take long for Ken to realize what they were up to.    
  
The temperature in the air dropped and John lifted the shotgun. A shrill scream filled the air as debris began flying towards the boys. Most of it bounced off their broad shoulders, but as part of a wall began to fall, John fired.    
  
“Work faster, Sammy! I think we’re pissing him off.”    
  
“Ya think, Dean?”    
  
The sight of the remainder of some kind of plant on Sam’s shoulder made Dean laugh.    
  
“Boys!”    
  
They both continued until they’d reached the hole underneath. Sam pulled out his flashlight and they peered into the hole. Just as Brian had told him, there were the remains of Ken Starklyn.      
  
The wind picked up again.    
  
“If you’re gonna piss on his grave, I’d say it’s now or never, Sammy.” Dean poured gas and salt into the makeshift grave. More of the structure began to collapse.    
  
“Jesus Christ! Will you just douse the fucker?!” As Dean moved back he threw the lighter into the hole.    
  
The three men stood and watched the fire consume the remains. John stared silently, lost in thought regarding how many of the hunters he’d known were now MIA, most likely dead.    
  
Sam was thinking that he’d head to the basement while John and Dean raided the weapons. He figured the pictures were in the back of the small closet he remembered, just like the weapons his father had found. If he could get to them, he could protect himself, Brian, and any other victim from their secret ever being discovered.    
  
From just the look on his face, Dean could tell Sam was thinking about something besides the flames in front of him. At some point he would most likely drag it out of his younger brother. Anything that could send him into the panic attack he’d had earlier needed to be out in the open so they could deal with it. Grimacing at his own thought of a chick flick moment, he quickly squashed that thought. Over 150 years earned Sam the right to talk about anything that still troubled him. And this? Yeah. Right up there, apparently.    
Once the fire died down, the three Winchesters headed up to the house. It was time to clean out anything that might lead a civilian into trouble. Dean started in on the lock while John stood behind him. Sam hung back a bit on the steps leading to the porch. He really did not want to go inside, but he knew he had to.    
  
Everything seemed to happen at once. Dean popped the door open, a cold wind picked up, and Sam went flying out into the yard.    
  
“What the fuck?” John watched as Sam arched his back and screamed for his brother. Unable to take the shot without hitting him, he started to step down. Before his foot hit the step, Dean was barreling past him with his own shotgun ready. Dropping to the ground, he fired a couple feet above the prone hunter. Instantly the wind stopped and Sam jumped to his feet.    
  
“Always go for the throat on you, kiddo.” Dean started to inspect his brother for injuries, but Sam pulled away and ran up the stairs. He wasn’t about to tell them that the icy cold fingers hadn’t gone for his throat. He’d felt them between his legs, doing all the things that those warm fingers had done to him fifteen years ago.    
  
John and Dean were still discussing what the ghost could be attached to that burning the corpse didn’t work, but Sam knew. The instant he’d felt that cold wrap around his dick he’d known exactly what was keeping Ken here.    
  
“Dad, where are the weapons?”    
  
John pointed to the closet by the door. “Right behind the back wall. A kick plate opens it.”    
  
“Pack them. Dean, I need you to cover me in the basement.”    
  
“What the fuck, Sam? We can’t leave Dad here alon-“   
  
“It’s not the weapons, Dean!” He hadn’t meant to shout at his brother, so when green eyes opened in surprise, he dropped his voice. “I know what he’s after. I know where it is. I need you to cover me while I completely piss him off.”    
  
Sam didn’t have to say anything else to let Dean know that he didn’t want their father to see whatever it was that Sam was after. “Dad get the weapons. We’ll be back.”    
  
John had been pretty patient with following behind his boys, but the man had his limits. “If you’re about to go take on a ghost I’m not staying behind.”    
  
Taking a deep breath, Sam tried to stop the shakes that had overtaken him the instant he’d been thrown across the yard. Not acknowledging either other men, he headed for the stairs to the basement. He didn’t have to look to know they were both following him, so he ran down the steps three at a time until he reached the roo m \-- the room that Ken had taken him to every time John had left him there. The room that turned his stomach and sent dread racing through him every time he’d seen the door. The room that Lucifer and sometimes Michael had gleefully dragged him to before re-enacting every memory he had of being in there. Only making sure it was worse.    
  
Reaching the door at the bottom of the stairs, Sam didn’t hesitate. With one fluid movement he kicked the door off its hinges and entered. For a second he froze, but that moment was gone the second he felt his brother stop behind him. Using his flashlight, he moved to the closet and kicked at the back wall. The wood splintered, and it revealed a small crawlspace, just like the one John had discovered upstairs. The temperature in the room dropped and he knew his father and brother were ready behind him. Kicking the base of the wall to give himself room, Sam dropped to his knees and leaned into the hole. The instant his hand touched the box inside, everything started shaking. Ignoring the shouts behind him and the blasts of rock salt, he gripped the box and dragged it out into the room. Things were crashing around them, but Sam refused to allow the distraction. Until he backed into the bed. As soon as his leg made contact he froze again. He tried to take a deep breath, but he was suddenly forced to the ground face first hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Icy fingers reached for him again, harsh, unyielding, and so intimate he couldn’t think around what they were doing to him.    
  
“Sammy!” Dean’s voice echoed in the small room.    
  
“The box! Dean, it’s the box! Burn it.” Gritting his teeth he forced the words out around the seizing muscles in his throat. “Burn every fucking thing in it.”    
  
For a second Dean stared in Sam’s direction, confused. He couldn’t see, but he’d been sure the ghost was after his brother’s neck. The sound of his brother’s voice confused him, not like he was being choked, but panicked. Moving around his brother, Dean grabbed the box to throw it in the corner. They’d have to leave fast in order to not be trapped in the room with the fire or smoke.  His father’s flashlight preceded hands gripping the box from the other side, and Dean turned his flashlight to Sam. He was still sprawled on his stomach, his hands clasped tightly over the back of his head. Their father was pulling the box around the bed, but Dean couldn’t take his eyes off his brother. Sam wasn’t struggling; he wasn’t choking; he wasn’t getting his head slammed into the floor. He was crying, silent sobs shaking his body. The flashlight scanned the long body, searching frantically for the source of the hunter’s pain.  
  
It hit the older Winchester in a split second of absolute horror. Something was holding his brother’s legs apart, and he was shaking from trying so hard to close them. Everything clicked in Dean’s mind. The panic attack, the complete refusal to talk about it, not wanting John down there with them, how much his little brother absolutely hated Ken Starklyn. He lifted the shotgun, but couldn’t fire without hurting Sam. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed the small canister of salt and dumped it on the writhing body on the ground. Instantly Sam was climbing to his feet, his eyes refusing to leave the ground. They could freak out all they wanted to later.  
  
“Gotta burn that box.” Dean tried to get him to focus.   
  
Together they headed for the box John had dragged a few feet from them. It was larger than Sam remembered, and his stomach threatened to empty when he realized it was because he’d needed more space because he’d had more victims. Dean grabbed the other side of it, and as they pulled on it, the sides ripped. The flashlights caught picture after picture as they tumbled to the ground. Boys, so many Dean couldn’t track the faces. All naked, all looking so scared and ashamed. Some weren’t alone. Ken was with them. Doing things to those innocent children that made Dean want to throw up right there. Stunned, all he could do was stare for a few seconds.  
  
When a large hand grabbed the flashlight and pulled it away from the evidence, the floor dropped out on Dean. There were pictures in there of his brother. His baby brother was one of those boys Ken had- bile rose and he struggled to stop it.   
  
“Lighter! Dean!” John’s voice was loud, clearly giving an order to snap his son out of his shock. Nodding, Dean pulled the lighter out of his pocket, but Ken was not going to let his trophies go easily. The wind picked up, scattering them around the room and, once again, Sam was slammed to the ground.    
  
Not hesitating, Dean threw more salt on his brother before Ken could get his hands on him again. Scrambling the instant he was free, Sam moved towards the door. But his brother was staring at the box on the ground. Under all the pictures in the box, were tapes. VHS, DVD, and some small square tapes Dean didn’t know the name of. It was the worst of his memories both before and in the cage. His father and brother were now witnesses to how weak he’d been. What he’d allowed a monster to do to him just because he was human. For a split second, he couldn’t breathe, and Sam realized if he let the memories overwhelm him the bastard would win again. And that wasn’t happening. Drawing from the rage that feeling of being powerless inspired in him, he turned to his family.    
  
“Running out of time, Dean!” Pushing John and dragging his brother, he snatched the lighter and threw it in the middle of the bed. It instantly ignited, the fire quickly spreading thanks to the pictures that had gas on them being all around the room. The three Winchesters fled up the stairs and John stopped at the closet.    
  
When he threw various weapons at the boys, they shoved them in the empty bags they’d left there. In less than 30 seconds, the smoke was pouring out of the basement and starting to fill the room. With unspoken agreement they broke and ran out the door. Throwing the bags in the back seat and the empty gas cans in the trunk, Dean started the Impala and they pulled out before the flames became visible from a distance.

 


	5. Gonna Do It Differently This Time 5

All three men  were lost in thought, no one knowing what to say. John hadn’t realized what the ghost had done to his son, but he knew what he saw in those pictures. He knew how much Sam had hated the man- not man- monster he thought was his friend. He’d never put the pieces together to figure out why. In the dark of the backseat, he forced himself to be honest. He’d never stopped long enough to even try.    
  
Dean’s thoughts were much darker. He was feeling a sense of absolute sel f - l oathing that he’d allowed this to happen to his little brother. The feeling that he’d failed Sam because the younger boy, at the time, hadn’t felt safe enough to tell him what was really going on in that house. That he’d ignored how badly Sam hadn’t wanted to go. The fights that had ensued every time John had decided Sam was going to help out- he’d never hear that term again without getting nauseous. Had Sam tried to tell him? Had he ignored the signs on purpose because he was so anxious to get out there and hunt with his father.    
  
Sam was the only one feeling even halfway peaceful in the car. Burning all of it had actually been cathartic for him. He felt like he’d been smacked in the head with all the memories crashing through his mind, and he was finally able to take a breath. The fallout was coming, and both his father and brother were going to want to know what happened. But at that moment, he could fight the sense of dread and finally relax for a few minutes. “Can we stop and grab food?” He finally broke the silence. For the first time since being told who’s ghost they were after he was actually hungry.    
  
The last thing either of the older Winchesters wanted was food, but Dean wasn’t about to deny his brother anything. “What do you want?”    
  
“Don’t care. I’m just hungry.” He paused. “I can grab something at the gas station across the street from the hotel-“   
  
“I asked you what you wanted, Sam. Didn’t say I wasn’t gonna feed you.” The look on his brother’s face made him feel worse. None of this was Sam’s fault, but he took the sharp comment to heart. Taking a deep breath, Dean softened his tone. “I’m not hungry.” _Feels like I’ll never be hungry again right now._ “So whatever you want is good.”    
  
Dean saw a Mexican place coming up and turned into the parking lot. Relieved at the fact there was no drive through and he was going to have to go into the restaurant, Sam jumped out of the car. At the last second, he paused and leaned back in. “Look, I know both of you are beating yourselves up. Don’t. Wasn’t anyone’s fault it happened but his. Wasn’t anyone’s fault neither of you knew about it but mine.” He wanted to ask them to let it go, but he knew better.    
  
As soon as Sam disappeared into the restaurant, John finally spoke up. “He told me. Not…. He fucking said it. And I slapped him for it.”    
Dean knew exactly what his father was talking about. The very last time John had sent Sam to stay with Ken. It had turned into one of the biggest fights they’d ever had, including Sam on the ground with a split lip.    
  
_ “I’m not going!” Sam yelled in his father’s face, sounding more like he was four instead of fourteen. He’d been arguing with John for about twenty minutes already.   _   
  
_ “Goddammit, if I tell you to go, you’re gonna go!” John was already in a bad mood and Sam’s inability to follow a simple order infuriated him.  _   
  
_ Dean just stood back and watched the battle, really not wanting to be in the middle again.  _   
  
_ “Ken needs some help, and for all the help he’s given us over the years, you can damn well go help him! He’s a good friend and a damn good contact to have.”  _   
  
_ “If he’s that important, YOU can go suck his dick!” Sam’s eyes widened in shock at his own words just before John’s hand had crossed his face hard enough to send him to the floor.  _   
  
_ Seeing Sam hit the floor was enough for Dean. John reaching for his belt was a line he wasn’t going to let his father cross. “Dad, no.” _   
  
_ “If you think I’m gonna take that from him-“ _   
  
_ “I’m not- look, he’s already bleeding, Dad. I don’t know what his problem is-“ _   
  
_ From the floor, Sam looked up at the two older Winchesters. “Can beat me all you want. Not going back to him ever again.”  _   
  
_ “Sam!” The older brother was trying to protect him, but if he didn’t shut up Dean was gonna be the next one to smack him.  _   
  
_ John tried to push Dean out of the way to get to the boy. Dean held firm, afraid his father was going to really hurt him. “Sammy, get the fuck out of here! You say another word I’m gonna slug you myself.”  _   
  
_ Standing, the teen just stared at his brother and father. He knew exactly what Ken was going to do to him. And he’d rather both of them beat the hell out of him than have that son of a bitch put his hands on him again. Ignoring the blood dripping down his chin, he stared at his father.  _   
  
_ “I don’t know what his issue is with Ken. He doesn’t like him.”  _   
  
_ “I don’t give a shit what he likes! The guy asked for me to drop Sam off to help and he’s gonna fucking well do what he’s told!”  _   
  
_ “I’ll go, Dad. Just…… Whatever he wants, I’ll go help.”  _   
  
_ “No!” Sam panicked. He didn’t want to go himself, but he wasn’t about to let Ken get his hands on Dean. “Dad, no.” The last time he’d tried to refuse Ken, the hunter left no doubt in the teen’s mind that his brother would take his place if their father ordered him to. Sam knew he would.  _   
  
_ “You’re gonna go because that little shit is throwing a temper tantrum? You’re gonna miss out on hunting a berserker to give in to him?”  _   
_ John wasn’t about to let Sam off the hook, but the fact that he looked like he might consider it terrified Sam. “You can’t send Dean.”  _   
_ Now the kid was trying to tell him what to do? John raged at the boy. “You need to learn who gives the orders in this unit, Sam. It ain’t you! Your brother knows that. If I order him to go he’s damn well gonna go-“ _   
  
_ “You can’t! Dean’s worth more than that and you fucking know it!” His stomach rolled, and he was afraid he was going to puke, but he knew his father would carry out his threat to send his brother instead. “I’ll go!” Tears came, but he wasn’t about to let them fall in front of his father. “I’ll go. I’ll do what he wants. Just don’t make Dean go.”  _   
  
_ The tone of Sam’s voice threw up all sorts of red flags to the older brother,  but their father nodded. “Go pack. Leave in twenty.”  _   
  
_ After the door to the bedroom closed, Dean turned to John. “Something’s not right, Dad.”  _   
  
_ “I didn’t let you get him off the hook. And he’s pissed about it.” John growled, still so pissed at his youngest he couldn’t see straight. “You want to go on this hunt or not? Feel free to stay with him-“  _   
  
_ “No! I want to go.” Dean was still not convinced there wasn’t more to it than Sam just not liking Ken, but before he could say more, the phone rang. Hearing John finalized the details with Caleb just made him more excited to join in the hunt. He’d talk to Sam when they got back.  _   
  
_ But the break between the berserker and the next hunt was only four days. Long enough to pick Sam up, cart him to the town near the hunt, and register him for school.  _   
  
“We both blew it with him, Dad.” Dean was realizing that even though he knew something was wrong, he’d never asked his brother about it.    
  
“I know.”    
  
“Not his fault he didn’t tell us.”    
  
“I know that, too.” Sighing, John watched the door for Sam exiting the restaurant. “Fifteen years too late to fix that now.”    
  
“So what?! We ignore it?”    
  
“I don’t know!”    
  
Both men were glaring at each other, neither noticing Sam approaching until he opened the door. “Give it a rest.” Sitting down, he stared out the windshield. “I’m okay.”    
  
“Now. How many years, Sam?”    
  
“Dean, can we at least wait till we get back to the hotel? Please?” Sam really wanted to eat his dinner, and he wouldn’t be able to if this conversation started now.    
  
Nodding, Dean started the car. 

 

 

When they reached the hotel, Dean opened a bottle, pouring three glasses.    
  
Sam sat at the table and tried to eat. He was hungry and the burrito was good. But his family staring at him and trying to not look like they were staring at him made him uncomfortable. Finally after eating about half of it, he gave up. “Go ahead. You’re both thinking so loud you’re giving me a headache.” The both looked startled and he shook his head. “Not psychic. Just that obvious.”    
  
“I’m sorry.” Dean blurted it out and stared into his brother’s eyes.    
  
“Dean, it wasn’t your fault. It was him. Neither one of you had anything to do with it.”    
  
“Wasn’t your fault, either, Sam.” Dean sat in the chair next to him and moved close enough to grip his brother by the back of the neck.  
  
“You said it was your fault you didn’t tell us. It wasn’t. He did this for years, knew exactly what to say to keep you from telling us.”   
  
“But I bought it, Dean!” Standing up, he leaned against the wall. “I fell for his bullshit!”    
  
“What did he say?” John finally faced his youngest son.  “ How did he convince you to stay quiet?”    
  
Hazel eyes dropped to the floor, ashamed.    
  
“Sammy, what did he say?” John’s voice was soft, trying desperately to figure out where things had gone so wrong. All he could see was the fourte en - year - o ld boy he’d not only ignored, but slapped when he’d actually been so terrified he’d let the secret slip.    
  
“He….. He said you knew.”    
  
His voice was so soft, John barely heard him. But he still felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Sam…. I knew things weren’t good between us. I...” He fell more than sat on the end of the bed. “I always thought…. I had no idea things were so bad between us that you’d think I’d…. I’d do that to  you.”    
  
Taking a deep breath, Sam met his father’s gaze. “Dad, we’re better now than we’ve ever been. I understand just about everything you did, how scared you were for us and why you pushed us the way you did. But back then? I… truth? I didn’t know you.” He shrugged.  
  
“You weren’t around a lot. I…when I was a kid, it just…. I had no idea who you were. I only knew I…”   
  
“What?” He had a feeling where Sam was going, and part of him just wanted to ditch the glass and drink straight from the bottle.    
  
“I’ve always been the least of all of you. I knew that even back then. I was a pain in both of your asses.”   
  
Dean’s eyes filled with tears. It broke his heart to hear Sam say that about himself now as much as it had right before he dragged Lucifer and Michael into hell. Standing up, he moved to his brother and gripped his neck again. “I made you feel that way-“   
  
Even as Sam shook his head, John spoke up. “It wasn’t you, Dean. It was me.” He knew exactly what his son was trying to not say. “I showed up once in a while to tell you that, right?”    
  
“Dad, you-“    
  
“I know you get it now, but you were a kid. And I never gave you any reason to think I wouldn’t……” He downed the fresh glass and shook his head. Christ. He didn’t know what to say to Sam. He never had. And since that had apparently led to his son thinking he’d been loaned to a pedophile, he’d better suck it up and figure out what to say now.    
  
“Look, I never wanted either of you to find out about this. It’s over. I knew how much bullshit it was even before I left for Stanford. I did figure out both of you would have killed him if you’d known.” Now Sam started drinking. This was way too much to handle sober.  
  
“I was the perfect victim. THAT’S what pisses me off more than anything. I was only there the first time because I’d fucked up.” Both older men looked at him like he was crazy. “You took me there because I’d fucked up and that hotel manager found out I was alone.”   
  
Dean remembered that. He had only been hunting full time for a couple months. Sam had called them hysterical that the manager was going to call CPS if one of them didn’t make an appearance. They’d hauled ass back to get him, making the arrangements for Ken to keep Sam on the way there. Making arrangements for some sick fuck to rape his brother so he could go hang out with his father, Caleb, and Bobby. His stomach turned and he barely made it to the bathroom before it tried to crawl out his throat.    
  
He had no idea how long he was there before a cold cloth dropped across the back of his neck and a glass of water appeared in front of him. “I am so fucking sorry.” Dean’s voice was a whisper.    
  
“Don’t. Please don’t.” The larger man eased him back to lean against that broad chest. “This is why I never wanted you to know.”    
  
Dean wondered how in the hell Sam could be so calm about it. He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until he heard his brother’s voice in his ear.    
  
“Because it was over one hundred years ago. What Lucifer and Michael did was…… not real? I know it in my head. They took what was already there and changed it up. Things that I know here, sitting with you, wouldn’t have happened. Coming back here freaked me out, dude. Can’t lie about that. But the whole torching thing?” He sighed, one arm resting around his brother’s waist. “Cathartic.”    
  
“Better than pissing on his grave?”    
  
“Hell yeah.” The both laughed softly.    
  
“You okay?”    
  
John’s voice startled them both. He was at the door, watching from the outside, like he realized he’d done most of Sam’s life. It hit him that he’d been given another chance only because he’d been needed at that moment. Whatever he did with that chance from now on was on him. Maybe it was time he did things differently where his sons were concerned. When they stood and exited the bathroom, he moved back and sat down on the edge of his bed.    
  
Both of them reached for glasses on the table, Sam taking the bottle and filling them. Well aware he was the focus of attention, the youngest downed his drink and reached for another. “You can relax, guys. I’m at my own quota of chick flick moments.”    
  
Both older Winchesters winced. They knew Sam hadn’t meant it the way they heard it, but they both realized that rule had been a pretty big factor in their youngest not telling them what happened to him.    
  
As the night wore on, two bottles disappeared and they started on a third. The older Winchesters had allowed Sam to direct the conversation to monsters they’d hunted over the years. It was a common ground where each of them had contributions to the topic.    
John noticed the more they drank, the closer his sons chairs got and the more they seemed to touch each other. A smack to the bicep, a flick to the head, stealing each other’s glasses when theirs was empty. Brotherly things John had seem them do all their lives. Until after the third bottle.  Sam walked behind Dean, his fingertips dragging across the back of his brother’s neck, eliciting a shiver. The looks they exchanged were anything but brotherly. John knew it was time to call it a night. When he announced he was going to bed, they didn’t exactly run out the door, but it wasn’t like they hesitated.    
  
No sooner had the door closed behind them, he heard a thud that could only have been one of them hitting a wall. Confused, he moved closer to the door and waited.    
  
It was Dean that hit the wall next to the room and his brother crowded him against the wall. “Couldn’t wait to get you out of there. Just wanted to touch you.”    
  
Pushing Sam’s hand against the bulge that had formed in his jeans, Dean laughed. “Touch all you want, Sammy.”    
  
“Didn’t mean- not that….” He tightened his hand and Dean gasped. “I mean, just touch you.” The fingertips of his other hand traced the older man’s jaw. “I love you and I hate sitting a foot from you and not being able to touch you.”    
  
John placed his forehead against the door and closed his eyes. The alcohol on top of the emotional strain his youngest had been through made him sound completely wrung out. He heard what he knew was the sound of his boys kissing.    
  
“Hey,” Breaking the kiss, Dean reached up and cupped his hand on his brother’s cheek. “Right here. Promise.” He recognized the toll the job had taken on Sam. “Love you, too.”    
  
Once he heard them head towards their own room, John filled another glass and sat down. Part of him realized how badly he’d screwed  up . Part of him was so fucking proud of both of them. And this? The fact that they were head over heels in love with each other? From what he’d seen, he was the only one that had a problem with it. And that included two fucking angels. Finishing his drink, he got ready for bed and promptly passed out.    
  
Sam started to take his shirts off, but his brother grabbed them and yanked them over his head. Laughing, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him close. For a moment he just hugged his brother, his face buried in the older man’s neck.    
Knowing how badly his brother needed comfort. Dean stood there, holding Sam gently. After about a minute, Sam leaned back and kissed him softly. His fingers moved down the front of Dean’s body, lifting and pushing until his shirts were on the ground behind him. They both finished undressing and crawled  into bed together.    
  
Sensing hesitation, Sam stared into his brother’s eyes. “Dean?”    
  
“Nothing. Just…. I’m…. I don’t know how to make this better-“   
  
“There’s nothing to make better, Dean.”    
  
“I have to wonder. I can’t help it, Sammy. What happened to you. Us-“   
  
“Don’t you dare.” An anger so intense appeared in those hazel eyes that it almost scared Dean. “Don’t you dare bring him into our bed.” But suddenly those eyes turned so hurt before he sat up with his back to his brother. “You know, I didn’t want you to find out because you would feel guilty. But I never dreamed it would make you doubt me. Again.”    
  
His voice broke and Dean felt ten times worse. Leaning up behind him, Dean put his arms around Sam’s waist and leaned against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I… You’ve lived with this for years. I’ve known for hours. I’m trying, Sammy.” Reaching around, he pulled his brother to face him.    
  
“Dad and I didn’t have a great relationship. That son of a bitch pretty much destroyed what was left for years. I’ve never let him come between us. I was twenty-four, Dean. Twenty-four when we decided to stop fighting what we felt for each other. The only thing I regret about us is that we were both so fucking drunk the first time we barely remember it.” Suddenly frantic, Sam grabbed Dean’s arms.  
  
“Please don’t doubt what we have. I love you. Don’t let this-“   
  
“I won’t. I won’t. I’m sorry.” Kissing his brother, he pulled the younger man down beside him. “I don’t doubt you. I promise. I love you.”    
Sam relaxed into Dean’s arms for a few minutes. Then he shifted, moving over his brother’s body to reach the lube they always left in the drawer beside the bed. He took his time, gently opening the older man’s body, kissing him and staring into his eyes.    
  
Trying to meet those eyes, Dean felt sick. He’d given his brother the impression that he doubted him. Whatever he had to do, he’d take those thoughts and that look away from Sam. He gripped a handful of hair, pulling him down, but let Sam set the pace. Slow, deep kisses that sent shivers up Dean’s spine. When he felt those long fingers withdraw and the younger man moved into position over him, he placed his hands on either side of his face.    
  
“Dean. Dean.” All Sam could do was repeat his brother’s name over and over as he slowly pushed inside.    
  
It was so slow Dean felt every inch of that hard cock filling him. He lifted his legs, pressing his knees into either side of Sam’s ribs. When Sam bottomed out Dean threw his head back and groaned. He felt his brother’s face against his shoulder, still whispering his name.   
  
Setting a slow, even rhythm, Sam scattered ope n - m outh kisses along the older man’s neck and jawline. He wasn’t after getting off, or fucking his brother through the mattress. All he wanted was to be connected to the one person he’d always loved more than anything else in his life.    
  
Dean ran his fingers through that long hair with one hand while the other gently traced the rippling muscles down his brother’s back. He felt the slight stutters in Sam’s strokes, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. Planting his feet on the bed, he raised his hips to meet every movement, gently urging the younger man to let go. Sam lifted his head, their eyes meeting for a few seconds before his body shook and he buried his face against Dean’s neck. He was silent when he came, as if unwilling to disturb the moment between them. For Dean it was actually more intense to hear nothing than his brother’s usual moan or curse. Sam’s body was still taut when he reached between their bodies to bring Dean over the edge with him. The firm grip took Dean by surprise and he found himself also releasing without a sound. Each spasm of his body seemed to wring out yet another shiver from Sam and they rode out each one, still silent except for their nearly matched breathing.    
  
For a moment, Dean was almost worried he was going to have to say something. He hoped he’d reassured his brother that they were good and he had no doubts about their relationship or, more to the point, Sam himself. But he didn’t have to. When Sam pulled out and laid down beside him, all the younger man wanted was to wrap his arms around him and relax.    
  
The room was silent and dark, and it seemed to focus Dean’s attention on the feeling of that broad chest under his head. He knew he wasn’t imaging the fact that their heartbeats were actually in sync along with their breathing. He never realized that they’d actually fallen asleep as one, too.   



	6. Gonna Do It Differently This Time 6

Sitting in another hotel room a few hours away from the hunt, John was trying but not really understanding the tablet Sam was working on. Even after a few hours of steady drinking, those long fingers flew across the glass surface, changing the screen and bringing up new windows before he could even decipher what was on the one before. “Can you slow the fuck down?”    
  
Sitting in another hotel room a few hours away from the hunt, John was trying but not really understanding the tablet Sam was working on. Even after a few hours of steady drinking, those long fingers flew across the glass surface, changing the screen and bringing up new windows before he could even decipher what was on the one before. “Can you slow the fuck down?”   
  
Laughing, Dean waved in the tablet’s general direction. “I don’t even try to keep up. I swear he’s part fucking Borg when it comes to these things.”  
  
With a snort, Sam found what he was looking for and turned to Dean. “Yeah, like I’ve ever assimilated with anything in my life.”    
  
“Mind meld, Sammy.”    
  
“That’s Vulcan, dumbass.” He pointed to the tablet to show John what he was looking at. “The second one on your list looks pretty straightfoward-SHIT!” He smacked at the fingers that were doing Dean’s best impression of the Vulcan Nerve Pinch to his neck.    
  
“Guess you’re not part computer after all.” Laughing, Dean went back to cleaning one of the guns they’d retrieved from Ken’s closet. The bag was empty and two piles had been formed a pile of what they would keep and a pile of what they would be able to sell.   
  
“Bitch.” Sam moved his arm to release the tingling feeling and looked back to John. “But this case is really high profile. Might be attracting other hunters. Figured we’d call Bobby and see if he’s got wind of anybody else looking for it.”    
  
“So now we back down if anybody else goes after it?”    
  
Sam knew John was going to fight them on it. “Dad, low profile, remember? Hunters finding out someone- even another hunter- is back from the dead never ends well.”    
  
“Dean? You agree with this whole ‘sit back and see if someone else kills it’?”   
  
Surprised, Dean looked from his father to his brother. Sam was so unwilling to put Dean in the middle anymore he’d go along with anything he said right now. But the fact that their father had dragged him in made him stop and wonder how much of him being put in the middle was all Sam. But he agreed with his brother on this. “Sam didn’t say sit back, Dad. Sam said find out if other hunters are already in the area.”    
  
“This is bullshit. I’m not gonna spend my life hiding!”    
  
When John’s voice rose, Sam took a deep breath. He was determined to not fight with his father. They’d fought enough for several lifetimes already.    
  
Dean wanted to placate John, but there was really nothing he could say. There were a lot of hunters, including friends of his father’s, who either wanted to try, or had tried (succeeded), to kill them.    
  
And to find out that one of John’s friends had hurt Sam so badly even back then made Dean wonder if any of them besides Bobby, Jim, and Caleb should have ever been trusted or called friend.    
  
Watching his brother, Dean knew from the tense set of those broad shoulders that Sam was trying to calm down.    
  
Dean turned back to their father and sighed. “Dad, Sam and I have been fighting shit that is way above any other hunter’s paygrade. Hell, we wish it was above our paygrade. They don’t understand. Most of them get just enough information to be dangerous.”   
  
“And the few we’ve had to drag into this have ended up regretting it. Blind, crippled, or dead.” Sam joined the conversation with another full bottle. “So when we can’t be sure what side of the fence they’re gonna fall on, we try to stay away. We’ve tried our damnedest to keep hunters we trusted away from it to protect them.” Taking a long drink, he sighed. “I don’t want to think about how many hunters we’ve had to watch die.”    
  
“We don’t think about it.” Dean snagged the bottle and took a drink himself. “Don’t think about it, don’t talk about it. If it’s too hard to talk about it we just don’t.” Another drink and he put the bottle down. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to pitch every weapon that had any reminder of that son of a bitch in the nearest dumpster. His eyes met Sam’s, and it was obvious he’d been hitting the bottle a lot harder than the younger brother had realized.    
  
“Ya know, Sammy, when the shit first hit the fan I spent a lot of time wondering when we’d started lying to each other. Figured it had started when I got back from hell. But now I find out….” He knew Sam had admitted, and their father had agreed, it was Dad that Sam hadn’t trusted enough to reveal what Ken had done to him, but Dean was having a hard time not blaming himself as well.     
Hazel eyes widened, and Dean realized he’d just hurt his brother and made him feel guilty yet again . “Shit, Sammy, I just…Why? The first time that bastard put his hands on you, why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
“Please let this go.” The older brother started to shake his head, but he continued. “Dean, it was over one hundred fifty years ago. Please let this go.”    
  
“That look! I know that look! That’s the look you get when I did something you don’t want to talk about because you want to protect me! It’s bullshit! Fucking tell me!”    
  
“Nothing!” Sam faced his brother, knowing when Winchesters drank this much it never ended well.    
  
John set his own bottle on the table. “It was me, Dean. He already said it.”    
  
“Bullshit. I didn’t let you beat his ass when he fucking deserved it. And he thought I’d stand back and let some fucking pervert-“   
  
“I don’t know what to say.” Moving across the room, Sam dropped to his knees in front of his brother. “The first time you and Dad came back to get me because I’d gotten caught. Sloppy.” Sam shrugged, the alcohol making his words slur a bit. “You were both royally pissed off at me. You dropped me at Ken’s to go finish the hunt. After Dad picked me up, we headed out to another hunt. I went back to school, and you and Dad went to hunt a black dog. And yeah, Dad was still pissed at me for dragging you away from the hun t . I sure as hell wasn’t going to drag you away again.”   
  
“But after that- How many times, Sam? How many times did you go to that son of a bitch’s house knowing what kind of fucking help he wanted? You never said anything! All you had to do was tell m e . I would have killed him.”    
  
John watched them, wanting yet dreading his youngest’s answer.    
  
Sliding off his knees to sit against the bed, Sam stared at the ground. “I know you would have killed him, Dean. But back then he was Dad’s friend. Saved your life once. And…” Hazel eyes shifted quickly towards John before they dropped back to the floor.    
  
“And?” John leaned closer, taking a long drink from his own bottle. “And what, Sam? Go ahead and say it. You thought I knew. That I was okay with you being hurt.”    
  
“Yes! Okay? You told me to shut up and do whatever the fuck he wanted, and he told me you knew what he wanted was to screw me! Is that what you’re both waiting to hear? The fact that I was an idiot and a total screw up long before I turned my back on Jake and Ruby played me?” Standing, he lost his balance and fell against the wall. Running his hands through his own hair, Sam stared at the ceiling, wishing he could simply disappear into the hard surface behind him. “Jesus fucking Chris t ! If we’re gonna rehash all dumb shit I’ve done when I’m alone we’ll never make it to another hunt!”    
  
Slamming the bottle down, Dean stared at his brother. “Yeah, we gonna rehash this- and we’re gonna keep rehashing it until you figure out it wasn’t your fault. Jesus, I wish I’d gone-“ Dean’s voice trailed off for a second and the rest of the argument came back to him.  
  
“You stopped me.” Green eyes grew wide and he felt his stomach try to escape. “You….”  
  
“You actually thought Dean meant more to me than you.” John voiced the thought that Dean couldn’t get past his own head. When Sam refused to meet his father’s eyes, John tried to understand. “If you thought Dean was worth more- you’re words- why wouldn’t you- you had to have known Dean would’ve-“   
  
“Son of a bitch.” It all came together in Dean’s head. His mind wasn’t firing on all eight at the moment, but he finally caught up. “You never said I was worth more to DAD.” Staring at the bottle on the table, Dean couldn’t decide if he wanted to drink every last drop or go throw up ever drop he’d already drank.    
  
Finally, hazel eyes moved up to meet green. “You were worth more than that to me.” Sam knew how much it would hurt Dean to find out that the reason he refused to stand back and allow Dean to go was because he wanted to protect his brother. But it was the truth.  
  
Even as Dean grabbed the bottle to throw it, the youngest Winchester intercepted it. “No!” Taking the bottle, he took a long drink and sighed. “NOW can we let this go? That bastard has done enough damage. To god only knows how many others because I was stupid.”  
  
“God dammit, Sammy! You were a kid. A fucking kid who never stood a god damned chance.” Dean stood up and paced around the room. “We were supposed to be protecting you! Dad and I should’ve figured it out.“   
  
“You weren’t there!” That was it. Sam had heard enough from both of them about it. All he wanted to do was forget it and move on, but going back and forth with his brother and father was going to make him snap. He’d consumed way too much alcohol to hold it back now. “How the fuck would either of you have known? The second you turned 16, you got your GED and you were gone. You were chomping at the bit to be out there way before that, Dean. You came back to train me, and Dad came back to test me. And I sucked at it.  You loved hunting, and you hated being stuck with me. And that was a huge part of why I was always so pissed at Dad. From the time I realized that you were stuck with m e , I was always afraid that you’d get sick of me and leave me-”    
  
“And I did.” Dean cut him off and sighed. “I did leave you.” With a laugh that had no humor in it, he took another long drink. “All those years, I blamed you for taking off. Gave you shit for bailing. Joke’s on me, h uh ? Turns out I was the one that bailed on you first.”    
  
Understanding that he’d just emotionally gutted his brother, Sam shook his head. “No. I…” He struggled for something to say, but all three Winchesters knew there was really nothing he could say. “You loved hunting, Dean. You loved being out there with Dad more than anything, and I-“   
  
“Not more than you.” Gripping his brother’s shoulders, he lowered his voice. “Never anything more than you.”    
  
“I know.”    
  
“You mean you know that now, right?”    
  
“I was proud of you.” John’s voice startled both boys and they turned to look at him. “When you quit school and started hunting full time, I felt like things were coming together. Figured Sam would follow when he could.”    
  
“Why would he have? All those times you tried to tell me. Even after Stanford. That you weren’t a member of our club.”    
  
“I think Marilyn Munster was what you called me.” Sam smiled, trying to change his brother’s train of thought.   
  
“Yep. Said that to you. Man, I was a dick.” Dean’s words were slurring as well. “Fucking dumped you alone so I could go hang out with Dad.”    
  
“Will you please stop?” Sam knew how his brother got when he drank like this, but he hated it. “I was an asshole, and I know it. I fought you and Dad every step of the way. I thought I could ignore all of it and be normal. I had this dumbass idea in my head that I could get away from it. So every time you wanted me to train, or practice shooting I got pissed off. I hated being alone, I hated being scared, but I was so pissed off at all of it that when you did come home I made you want to get the hell away from me again.”    
  
“You were a kid. You shouldn’t have had to be alone.” John kept remembering times he’d dumped Sam on Dean when they were both way too young. Or, later, taken Dean and dumped Sam on his own. He’d spent their entire lives heaping too much responsibility on both of them. It was time he accepted his share of the guilt off his oldest’s shoulders. “You were both kids. I was obsessed, and you both paid the price for it.”    
  
“Believe me, Dad, if there is anything I completely understand about you, it’s obsession with revenge.” Standing, Sam realized how much he’d had to drink. Way too much. “A lot of shit shouldn’t have happened. I admit it, okay? I hated being alon e . I was scared all the time and I blamed you for a lot of shit that wasn’t your fault. I blamed you for the training. I blamed you for the crappy motels, the way we had to move every few weeks. And later I blamed you for taking Dean away from me and leaving me alone. That what you want to hear, Dad?”    
  
Knowing his son was right only made his words hurt more. “It shouldn’t have happened.”    
  
“A lot of shit shouldn’t have happened! But it was always going to happen. From the day Michael kicked Lucifer’s ass into the fucking cage in the first place. We’ve been told over and over that demons, angels, and their dick daddy worked for eons to make sure Dean broke the first seal and I broke the last. We know every time I turned around, a fucking demon was yanking my chain. Teachers, friends, even my fucking prom date were goddamn demons.”    
  
Nodding, which made his vision blur, Dean interrupted him. “All making sure you stayed pissed off. Making damn sure you felt like you weren’t good enough. Making it too fucking easy for Ken to convince you of anything.” It didn’t absolve him or John of their own part in it, but Sam needed to realize none of it was his fault.    
  
“Exactly!” Sam started to pace, but realized quickly it was a bad idea and sat in a chair. “Those fuckers wouldn’t leave me alone. Their JOB was to keep us fighting. Keep us from working together-“   
  
“Wait, back up.” John was still processing, and he cursed the fact that his brain was not functioning due to alcohol. “Demons?”    
  
“Lucifer called them Azazel’s gang.” Sam reached for the bottle. “Fucking with me since I was a kid. They knew where we were most of my life. Waiting for some kind of freakin’ demonic bat signal to grab me once the switches started flitt- shit- flipping in my head.”    
It sunk in slowly. Everything he’d done. The moving around, the hunting, the tracking. All the ways he’d hurt his boys, and for what? “I served you right up to all of them, didn’t I, Samm y ?”    
  
“What? No!”    
  
Sam was still trying to come up with words when John continued. “Sure I did. I went looking for that bastard, and that was exactly what that fucker wanted. All those dead ends were fucking goose chases. How much you wanna bet that one?”    
  
“Well, fuck.” When Sam tried to prop his head on his hand he missed and realized just how shitfaced he was.    
  
“Son of a bitch.” Dean took the bottle back. “Just fucking yanking our chains.”    
  
“Maybe angels too. They sure got their rocks off fucking with us, too.”    
  
“Aren’t you a ray of fucked up and then some.” Dean stared at his brother. “But you’re probably right.”    
  
“But you know what?” Like he was excited to prove his point, Sam jumped to his feet. And promptly almost fell over. “We didn’t fucking do what they wanted! A master plan eons in the making, and we fucking stopped it. So whatever happened before tha t \- demons, angels, even Ken-fucking- Starkly n \- it helped us become whatever we needed to be so we could send their fucking crazy train off the goddamn tracks.” Reaching for the bottle he and his brother had been sharing, Sam headed for the door. “I’m going to our room to throw up and pass out.”    
  
“In that order?” Dean was trying to get his own bearings enough to stand up.    
  
“Guess we’ll find out.”    
  
“Dumb fuck better not pass out in the toilet again.” Standing, Dean staggered to the door after his brother. “Fuck. Might just throw up with him.”    
  
Sam stumbled down the sidewalk to their door. He was still fumbling with the key card when his brother ran into him. When they both hit the door, it shook in its frame.    
  
Hearing the crash, John stepped outside. The sight of both boys literally falling down drunk against the door made him smile. “Head’s up!”    
  
Both of them stopped and stared at him, trying to appear alert, as if he hadn’t startled them. He started to laugh, the looks on their faces reminding him of when they were younger. It took the matching looks of surprise to show John they were expecting him to reprimand them. He’d never just teased them. Knowing that he’d convinced himself that it was to keep them alive, it took that moment to show him that, to them, it had been looking for fault or weakness.    
  
Despite Dean’s best efforts, the larger Winchester started to slide down the wall.    
  
The sight of Dean struggling to keep his brother upright urged John to move. Together they managed to save the bottle from falling, open the door, and get the youngest to the bed before he fell over. Dean started to remove his brother’s boots, but bending over made the room spin so he flopped on his knees. “Fucking gigantor can’t hold his fucking liquor.”    
John refrained from reminding his son just how much all three of them had consumed. He smiled while Dean continued to mutter while he removed Sam’s socks and boots. The way he wobbled and his hands were having a hard time coordinating made him look more and  more like the fiv e - year - o ld that used to dress his baby brother for bed.    
  
“You fucking tickle me, I’m gonna fucking kick you before fucking I puke on you.”    
  
And with one slurred sentence, Sam destroyed the illusion of the memory John was having. Or maybe Sam’s mind was going back to that place as well, since that was one of smaller Dean’s favorite hobbies.    
  
“You puke on me I end you.” Dean tried to stand, but couldn’t quite balance enough to let go of the bed.    
  
Laughing, John sat on the bed next to Sam. “From the looks of you if he pukes on you I’d bet you’d be puking right back on him.”    
  
“Probaly.” Still leaning on the bed, he hauled off and slapped his younger brother’s thigh. “Jeans, kiddo.”    
  
“Dude!” Absently rubbing the spot Dean had just nailed, he whined. Gripping his flannel shirt, he tried to take it off and started to struggle when he couldn’t reach behind his back to get his arms out of the sleeves.    
  
“Jesus. Really can’t hold his liquor.” Gripping the broad shoulders, John hauled his youngest up so he could move his arms. “You were laying down.” Dean tried to stop him, but Sam was sitting up before he could put the words together.    
  
“Shit.” Sam’s face actually turned green and his brother grabbed his shirt and dragged him off the bed.    
  
“Once he’s flat, it’s over.” Dean shoved Sam into the bathroom and fell in the doorway behind him. “Can’t move him.”    
  
The sound of retching reached John and he struggled to keep the liquor he’d consumed down. From the looks of Dean, he wasn’t sure they weren’t all going to be tossing before long.    
  
“Been that way since he was 15.” Reaching up onto the counter, Dean grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Head out of the toilet, puke boy.”    
  
“Fuck you.”    
  
“Not while you smell like that…. that thing behind the bar on the floor.” Still sitting, Dean got close enough to hand his brother the water.    
  
“Bar mat.” John realized Sam’s voice sounded like it was echoing because his head was hanging over the toilet. A crash worried him for a moment before a more pissed off version of the same voice carried out louder. “Asshole.”    
  
“Watch your head.” Dean was unmistakably laughing.    
  
“How can I wash- watch my head when you’re bouncing it off the fucking toilet?!” Whatever else Sam was going to say was lost in another round of retching.    
  
“Jesus, Sammy.” Dean appeared at the door. “I’ll die for your dumb ass, but I’m not gonna sit there till I puke with it.”    
  
“Nice to know you draw the line somewhere.” John couldn’t help himself.    
  
“Standards. Gotta have ‘em.” He’d left his button down somewhere in the bathroom and he sat down to toe his shoes off his feet.    
Sliding his jeans off, Dean stretched out on the bed. “You watch him? Just make sure he doesn’t give himself a swirly.”    
  
“Great. So I get to puke with him.” Not even trying to hide his amusement, John stood and made his way to the bathroom door.    
  
“Welcome back, Dad.” With a sarcastic grin, Dean rolled over and put his back to the bathroom.    
When he ventured a glance into the bathroom, John began to laugh. The sight of his baby, now towering around six and a half feet, literally taking up nearly every inch of the bathroom floor as he sat in front of the toilet with his legs out towards the door wasn’t enough to make him laugh as hard as he was. It was the same man pulling on his shirt in a feeble attempt to get it off his shoulders with his nose wrinkled at the smell.    
  
Once he started laughing, John couldn’t stop. The confused look on Sam’s face just made him laugh harder. Finally taking pity, he stepped over those long legs and reached for his son’s shirt. “Let go.”    
  
“Never seen you laugh like that.”    
  
John froze. One sentence hit him like a bucket of ice water.  Sam was right. He’d never shared a real laugh with his youngest son. Even now he was laughing more at then with him. His own defenses dulled by alcohol, he sighed. “Really got fucked over your whole life, huh, Sammy.”    
  
“Yeah.” He leaned forward and let his father pull the puke stained shirt off his back.    
  
“You done?”    
  
“Sorry, Dad.” John had meant throwing up, but obviously Sam had taken it as yet another reprimand.    
  
Handing over a cup of water, John was surprised to feel a tear slide down his own cheek. “If I ever hear you apologize to me again it will be too soon.” He took the now empty cup back. “Can you stand up if I help?”    
  
“Thinkso.”      
  
One slurred syllable wasn’t very reassuring, but John went with it. His back reminded him that even though his body was freshly rejuvenated, his son weighed a ton. He struggled to keep Sam upright as they headed for the door. A large hand hit the doorjamb to stop their progress and John almost went down.    
  
“Gottabrush. Somethin died.”    
  
Okay. Three syllables. Getting better. John waited until Sam was finished and helped him out of the bathroom. With only an idea of where the bed was, Sam stumbled to his brother’s side and almost collapsed on him.    
  
“No!” John struggled to keep the taller man on his feet. “Other side. And you puked on your jeans, too, kiddo.”    
  
“Oops.” It took Sam a few tries, but he undid the belt and managed to not take John to the floor with him when he kicked off the rancid pants. For a second, John was about to lead Sam to the other bed. The sight of their duffels, clothes, and lumps underneath that had to be weapons covering the bed reminded him that it was a spare. Once again, he felt like he’d been slapped with the fact that their relationship was much more than brotherly. But for the first time he didn’t feel the swell of anger he usually felt. Shifting his shoulders, he gently helped Sam onto his side of their bed. Dean was already snoring, and John smiled when, even half unconscious, Sam reached out and gripped his brother’s arm.    
  
With a deep breath, John picked up the jeans and threw them into a trash bag with the other clothes that would be thrown in the trunk until they could be washed. Picking up the bottle, he turned back to his sons. Everything he’d learned in the last few days was rushing through his mind. So much time he wasted with his boys. How much he’d hurt them because they were being manipulated and pulled in different directions. The sight of them pressed together just made the ache worse. He sat- more collapsed- into a chair and took a long drink. For the moment he was perfectly happy to watch them sleep. 

  
Sunlight was barely visible through a few holes in the old curtains when Dean opened his eyes. He was nowhere near ready to get up, but he lifted his head to figure out what time it was. Peering over his brother, he was shocked to see their father asleep in the chair. He wouldn’t possibly be able to move when he woke. Slowly he forced himself to get up, mentally checking how bad the hangover was going to be. Pretty bad, from what he was already feeling.  Making his way across the room, he found some painkillers and swallowed them dry. He knew there were bottles of water in the fridge, but it was faster to drink from the faucet. Plus the added bonus of not having to bend over at the moment. 

“Dad.” Dean shook his father gently. “Come on, Dad. Hangover’s gonna be miserable without a sore neck to go along with it.” 

John didn’t stir for a moment. When he did, he glared at his son. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Yep.” With a smile Dean moved to the spare bed. “Gonna clear a space for you.” 

“Nah. Gonna swallow some-“ The bottle hit him in the chest and he smiled gratefully. “Make some coffee and try to function.” Also dry swallowing a couple pills, he moved to the sink. “Think Sammy will survive?” 

“Not willingly for a few hours.” Dean laughed and fought the desire to fall back into bed himself. “Wait till he wakes up. He’ll complain that his hair even hurts.” 

“Hell of a night last night.” John’s voice was quiet in deference to how bad his head hurt. When silence answered him, he turned to find his son staring at him. “What?”

“You don’t seriously want to continue that long drunk chick flick moment, do you?” 

Wincing, John realized he’d instilled that total aversion in his sons. Well, Dean, much more than Sam. “Guess I realized if we’d have a few more nights like that before, a lot of shit wouldn’t have happened.” 

“Sure it would have. The master plan in the universe was to shit on us.” Dean watched the coffee pot silently. Two lousy complimentary cups weren’t going to cut it. But the thought of going out in the sun actually made his head pound double-time. More to avoid his father than anything else, he picked up the phone and pleaded with the front office to bring more coffee. 

With a glance at his watch, John leaned back. “Almost noon.”

“And?” Dean was almost afraid John was going to say they had to get ready to head out. 

“And, lunch places will start delivering.” 

“Not ready for food yet. Just… no.” He felt his face turn green at the thought. 

“If we order a pizza, I’m sure we can get eight cups of coffee on the side.” 

“Make it ten.” He dumped the contents of the coffee pot into two cups and passed one to his father before sitting on the spare bed. 

For a few minutes they shared a comfortable silence. Dean hoped it meant John was going to let last night go. Usually he would be afraid Sam would push things, but this particular conversation had been one he was confident his brother would not want to revisit.    
John knew that before he died- that thought would never not be strange- he would have never even engaged in the conversation last night. But he realized now that not listening to either of his sons and not telling them what he knew had put them in more jeopardy. During one of the first conversations he had with them after he came back, Sam informed him that “ n eed to kno w ” had bitten them in the ass more than once. It was time to change things between them. “Dean, I’m not saying I want to have weekly chick flick moments. But so many things would have been different- or we would have handled them differently- if we’d shared what we knew- if I’d shared what I knew.” 

“Being kept in the dark was one of the things that pissed Sam off royally. Can’t say I was thrilled about it, but I understood.” 

“You understood because I told you my reasons.” John sighed. “Sam never even got that from me.  I left that to you. But…..after everything I’ve found out….. I was wrong.”

Stunned, Dean could only stare. Finally he took a sip and spoke. “I’ve never heard you say that.” 

“Why don’t you take a picture so you can share with sleeping beauty over there.” 

“He’d just think I photo shopped it.” They shared a laugh. 

After staring at his phone again, John nodded to Dean. While Dean used his phone to order food and coffee, he turned to stare at his youngest son. He was sprawled across the bed, half of his face buried in the pillow, his hair covering the rest so only one closed eye could be seen. If you could ignore that he was now literally taking up 90% of the bed, he looked so much like he had at 6 after staying up too late John couldn’t take his eyes off of him. 

The realization that their entire lives had been one big manipulation had not been an easy one. Now that he was sobering up, he could really stop and think about all the leads he’d chased, the times he’d been so sure he was about to get Azazel. The fact that he’d missed the signs in Palo Alto before the demon burned Sam’s life to the ground should have told him something. But it had just made him angrier, a fact the demons and angels had probably counted on. 

As if he sensed the scrutiny, Sam opened his eyes and returned John’s stare. 

“Morning, sunshine!” Dean’s voice made Sam cringe. 

“Asshole.” 

“Yep. Just think how peaceful your hangover would be without me to help you suffer.” Before his little brother could pull the pillow completely over his head, Dean dropped the aspirin on him and put a glass of water on the nightstand.    
Too grateful to continue to bitch, Sam downed them and laid back down. 

“Pizza will be here shortly. Complete meat lovers with extra onions and anchovies.”

“Oh,God …..I hate you.”” 

With a loud laugh, Dean patted the broad shoulder. “Lots of coffee coming, too. Wouldn’t leave you out.” 

Rolling over slowly, Sam tried to get to his feet without the room spinning.  One hand on the wall, the other on his own head. “Jesus, how the fuck does my hair hurt?” 

When both older Winchesters began to laugh, Sam just glared at them. 

Dean knew if Sam’s head wasn’t pounding he would have slammed the door when he went in the bathroom. Still laughing, he sat on the bed against the headboard. 

Knowing he’d have to go in the bathroom himself as soon as Sam exited, John stretched his arms out above his head. 

“Not gonna sleep in a chair again anytime soon?” Dean was grinning at him.

“Smartass.” 

A knock on the door had Dean jumping to answer it. He was handing the cash over when the delivery driver stopped talking. When Dean turned he realized the driver was staring at Sam, still in boxers and a tee-shirt stumbling across the room to the bed. 

“What’s the matter? Never seen a hot, hal f - n aked guy before?” 

He had no idea what to say to Dean, but Sam realized he was being stared at.

“Dean!” He instantly regretted it. Flipping his brother the bird, he flopped back down across the bed. 

Laughing, Dean shut the door, and took two coffees to the nightstand. After grabbing a slice of pizza, he sat back down against the headboard. 

“Guess you got over the whole ‘not hungry’?” John was grinning like he’d known all along Dean wouldn’t turn down food.   
Before he could reply, the lump beside him moved. Sam stretched across his brother’s lap to reach the coffee. 

“Still  hate me?” 

“Yep.” Drinking half the cup in one shot, Sam tried to clear his head. 

“Either of you have an idea on where we’re headed?” 

John’s question surprised both brothers. He’d never asked them for their opinion on which hunt to take next. 

“I figured the one about seven hours out. Might be a berserker.” Sam watched to see if John was going to agree with him. “I can pull up pretty much everything we need before we get there.” 

“So we head out in a couple hours.” Dean finished his coffee. “Get an early start tomorrow canvassing and hit the morgue.” 

“Couple hours sounds good.” Tossing his now empty cup, Sam flopped horizontally across the bed. His head landed on Dean’s thigh and he closed his eyes. 

For a while the room was silent except for the sound of John  and Dean eating with their coffee and Sam’s soft snores. It was comfortable. 

John found himself watching his boys. Seemed he’d done more of that in the last few days than he ever had. Dean had always been a bundle of nerves, pacing, cleaning weapons, constantly moving. Sitting on the bed, absently running his hands through Sam’s hair, was the calmest he’d ever seen his oldest son. Peaceful. That was the word. And it was something he never thought he’d ever see.    
He was actually almost smiling when he stood. “Gonna get cleaned up and packed up.” 

“I’m gonna let him sleep a little longer and get packed up ourselves.” 

Shutting the door behind him, he headed back to his room thinking that they were going to make it work a lot better this time.   


 

 


End file.
